Darkness
by Cathar
Summary: There is something mysterious and dark going on, and it seems that Harry might not be able to cope with everything happening around him. – Discontinued.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own JK Rowling, therefore I don't own Harry Potter(tm) or any other person/thing related to this wizarding world either. And no matter how much I _would_ like to, I'm not making money off this, which would be a pathetic attempt as well.

**A/N: **This a bunny jumping in my head andunless I won't continue writingthis, there most likely will be slash in this story and possible angst and darkness. Be warned.

**DARKNESS**

There was no one there. It was all empty and cold around him and he couldn't see a thing. Sometimes he thought that it was better that way – no one could bother him; look at him with fear in their eyes or the hope that clearly said he was supposed to be their hero.

But he wished none of this. Never really had, all he had ever wanted was a quiet normal life. Somehow though, his greatest wish had never come true. Perhaps he wished for something impossible - he didn't know. All he knew was that something had changed.

Not in the darkness he was living in, if this could be called living. He didn't know whether he was really alive - he knew he must have been breathing although he couldn't sense it - but in his heart he felt dead.

It was strange in a way, after all these years living a life that had never been completely his, but where he had been ordered around like a puppet; and now to be in a position like this, where he had no control and no life to own.

A part of him was angered. The part that didn't understand his pain and wished to live on. The part that had friends and hobbies, the part that laughed and enjoyed flying. But the other him was eerily calm. It didn't say a word, and remained silent in the awaking of the storm to begin.

**A/N: **That's it. The opening chapter. I won't promise another one, though. Let us all hope that my muse will be a bit more understanding this time.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own JK Rowling, therefore I don't own Harry Potter(tm) or any other person/thing related to this wizarding world either. And no matter how much I _would_ like to, I'm not making money off this, which - in my opinion - would be a pathetic attempt anyway, because this _clearly_ isn't a masterpiece.

**DARKNESS **

**Chapter 1**

There were whispers in the dark – on the left and right, near and far, quiet and loud, old and young, wise and foolish; whispers that were angry, confused or irritated, and whispers that were speaking. But the words could not be distinguished. They were swirling in his head, there – but just out of reach, playing hide-and-seek, and he was too slow, for once, to catch them.

He was tired, the sounds around him were like a lullaby; he knew he had to fight sleep – slumber might cause him his life – but he couldn't find energy to, nor will. There was something weighing down on him, had been for a while, something horrendous, dark and alien.

He saw images of his life - the Dursleys, Hagrid, the letter from Hogwarts, Hermione, Ron, and his years at the Wizarding School, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, the Prophecy and Sirius…

Anger flashed before his eyes. 'No, not Sirius!' he thought. Couldn't the memory of him be left at peace not even in Harry's own death?

He rolled over and tried to push himself up on his hands, but his hands didn't find any support. For a moment Harry thought in fear that he should fall, fall to an abyss below. But nothing of the kind followed. He stayed as he was, kneeling on all four, without feeling anything under his limbs.

It was a strangest feeling. His mind kept telling him that he shouldn't be in the particular position – it ought to be physically impossible, but he knew with his every fibre that he _wasn't_ falling. Not even flying, zooming through the air, held up by magic.

The closest he could think of was floating. But it didn't make any sense, in fact what more he thought about it the more bizarre it seemed. It didn't help least bit that he was unable to properly concentrate on the subject - it kept escaping his hold, just like the voices earlier.

Harry shook his head in frustration, he was tired and confused. He had no idea where he was and what was happening, or how the hell to get out of the place, whatever it was then.

There was darkness all round him, it was literally so dark that he couldn't see his own hands. He knew where they were, but that was pure sense. It worried him greatly, who could tell what dangers lurked about, ready to attack? He was unarmed and defenceless, his wand was nowhere near, no matter how far he reached and felt around the void.

Panic rose in his chest, it groped at his lungs, squeezing his trachea and making the heart pound fast against his ribcage. His breath came out harsh and uneven, his eyes were hurting and he could see white stars in front of his vision.

There was something in the air that was feeding the fear in him. Harry saw his unhappy childhood, all the horrible things the Dursleys had done, his parents' death, the death of Cedric and Sirius, Voldemort coming back to life, visions he had had through the connection to Voldemort, torture, rape and murder, Sirius's death, the Dursleys abusing him, death and blood, and his own secret fears, that had been hidden deep at the back of his mind.

He felt as he was suffocating, the weight of the horrors was deeply crushing him down. His head was spinning and his stomach twisting uncomfortably, the blood was rushing in his ears, shouting angrily, accusingly. He clamped his palms on his ears, trying to turn down the volume, but it only got worse.

Harry was forced to watch the Death Eaters torture both young children and adults. The dark spells that were placed on the muggles caused them excruciating pain, their hollow shrieks and shills echoed in Harry's head.

The images changed in front of his eyes, he saw different places, different people, but what remained the same were the faces of the victims, which were always blood painted and frozen in fear.

Tears formed in Harry's eyes, but he didn't notice them, his mind was far away when a single tear rolled down his cheek, soon followed by many others. For there was something about the faces that was creepier than the pure terror each one of them held.

Although crushed, broken and dying, in their eyes there was still a lingering hope that someone would save them. But one by one, like a flame going out in a harsh wind, it burned down, and all that were left were glassy, empty eyeballs.

It was agonising to know that he was the one who had extinguished the flame.

* * *

**A/N: **I have to admit that I never really planned to continue this. 'Twas a 'one-night-affair' when I wrote the first chapter. But one day suddenly I just noticed that I had gotten two reviews for the story, and thought - 'what the heck, I might just have an idea what to do next with the thing!' - sat down and typed this.

Many thanks to **FaTaL DiStRaCtIoN **and **Tondo-the-half-elf** for reviewing! I hope you like where I'm taking this - although, if you do know, then you know a lot more than I do:p


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